


His First Drink

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kissing, Landwalker, Luke has never drank before, M/M, Mentions of Blue Milk, Post-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:11:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Luke Skywalker has been saved from the clutches of Darth Vader, only to be dragged into Rebellion festivities. Lando Calrissian fills a void that Luke is missing and the two enjoy a toast at his apartment, that drink being Luke's first, as they muse about their lives and their relationship going forward as the search for Han Solo continues.





	His First Drink

Residential galas happened every so often within the Rebellion – it was a chance to boost morale, allow men and women and everyone else to lose their edge for a few hours, and enjoy the great gifts that lived on and celebrate those lost. Luke didn’t want to go but as one of their biggest names and the man with the strongest claim to fame, it was necessary that he attend.

It was supposed to be a quick and easy appearance: the youth was to stand there and give a quick speech, shake some hands, talk to his friends and peers from all corners of the Rebellion. Events like that always made him nervous and dressing up in a suit, even more so; all eyes would be on him. Flying in space and destroying intergalactic space stations? Easy and thrilling work. Celebrating and mingling with the bureaucracy? That wasn’t really the joy of a farm boy – and to be all alone by himself with no one to coax him through the steps was even worse.

Loneliness – that dreadful feeling became quite common with young Skywalker as the weeks after their rescue on Cloud City passed. Close friends visited in hushed voices, leaders careful with their words as he passed. Rumors were floating around the Rebellion – that their great Commander lost to Lord Vader, that he was no longer a Jedi, that he possibly lost his hand.

Skywalker was quiet as the silent rumors loomed about the base, keeping to himself in his chamber as Leia met with him from time to time. “I know the stories are getting to you,” she said to him one evening, though he tried his best to pretend everything was right with him. “You don’t have the face of a gambler, Luke. You can smile all you want but I’ve been able to see the pain in your eyes ever since we rescued you.”

The Princess of Alderaan was right, of course, though he wouldn’t dare admit to it; not out of arrogance or pride, but rather of fear, the constant chill and worry of his most horrifying secrets leaking out to those whom he know and those whom looked up to him. With just three to five words, his entire reputation could be ruined in seconds, his wrists bound by shackles. As a Jedi Knight, the youth swore to fight against fear with as much resilience as he could bear – but that burden was weighing heavier with every day that passed.

“I want you to go to the ball, Luke,” he remembered her saying to him the week before. “You deserve to have a break from whatever has been troubling you. You’ll have to speak, of course, but I know you can do that. Mingle, dance, enjoy some time with your squadron friends.”

Again, she was right, but the young man felt so distant and detached from everyone at the moment. Friends felt as familiar as ever, but he, himself, felt like a total stranger to their unknowing eyes. It would be a difficult task that would require his strongest effort; surely, there had to be someone that he trusted, an outsider that would accompany him.   

Lando Calrissian stepped into his room not a moment later, and Skywalker felt a huge sigh of relief at his entrance, thanking the Force in his thoughts as he asked his new friend to accompany him. The older man was honored and offered his services to the young man, guiding him through all the different layers and groundwork for schmoozing through the gala. It was a relief not to be so alone that evening – and charming as ever, Lando offered Luke to stay at his new place afterword.

“Go on, try it.”

The night was almost over but there was still time left to kill.

“A toast to our brave hero making it through the night.”

Luke Skywalker looked down at the cup that was offered his way and shrugged, the purple liquid looked appealing enough to his eye, reaching for it and taking a small sip of the contents inside. Immediately after his first swallow, he was already gagging and retching with his sleeve covering his mouth.

“Careful, careful,” Lando mused as he walked over to his friend. The two men stood over the onlooking balcony of Lando’s apartment and stared out at the greenery that surrounded them. “You wouldn’t want to ruin a nice suit like that,” the man said as he adjusted Luke’s crooked tie and vest. “ I guess your pilot friends weren’t joking when they said you’ve never drank a day in your life.”

“That was disgusting,” Luke spat as he sat the drink on the bench and continually rubbed his lips. Burning sensations enveloped his tongue and ran far down deep into his throat, forcing him to let loose a cough. It was true – he’d never drank spirits before. The closest he ever got was when he was thirteen or so and dared to take a quick sip from Uncle Owen’s drink; it was a pretty similar experience. He quickly wrote it off and never thought about it again – after all, nothing would ever compare to his sacred blue milk.

“That, my young friend,” Lando stressed while placing his arm around Luke’s neck, “was a delicacy.”

“You’d think a delicacy would actually taste good,” the youth stated as he looked back into the cup with revulsion. He carefully placed his finger inside and splashed it around. He could admit that the drink was enticing in some manner – in a stupid and dumb manner. As he played with his finger in the liquid, he noticed his head beginning to spin as his eyes followed the fluid.

“That delicacy you are playing with like a child cost me a great fortune to get,” the smuggler quipped as he lightly thumped his friend on the head and pulled the finger out of his cup. Luke rolled his eyes and sighed. “And I expect you drink the whole thing up tonight.”

His stomach churned as he looked back to the drink, gulping back as he remembered the harsh taste of it grind down his throat, shivering in disgust. But Lando insisted as he stood there, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. The night would be ending abruptly should he choose not to swallow this poison. He lifted the drink and took another swig – seconds away from coughing up the entire gulp.

“I’ll take my milk over this junk any time.”

His friend burst out laughing at the comment and slapped Luke on the back, roaring at the honesty and childlike demeanor from this great hero. The Jedi wasn’t as amused. “You may have taken down the Death Star and escaped the clutches of that Vader but you’re still a kid at heart,” he cried out as his laughter slowly trailed off. “It’s adorable.”

Luke rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance and embarrassment, backing away from the balcony and stepping into the apartment instead. “You have a nice place,” muttered the youth absentmindedly as he looked around at the nice collection Lando had made here. “I’m shocked you were able to get so much stuff out of Cloud City.”

While the young man hadn’t spent much time inside that floating fortress, there sleek and modern architecture caught his eye: the room had been expertly crafted to resemble that, as beige and white swam over and enveloped the senses. Art and décor riddled the walls, as a large collection of books lay fresh on a shelf to his right. Luke walked over to them and picked one up; curious at the interests of his new friend.

“When you have a past as a smuggler and gambler like me, you make a lot of friends in high and low places; people from all walks of life with their own stories to tell. You'd be surprised how many would be willing to help you out, for a small fee, of course. Not that I have a whole bunch remaining after what Vader and his goons did to my city.”

“I’m sorry about that,” sourly stated Luke as his fist tightened around the glass. The brown eyes of Lando followed him very carefully thanks to the quickness of his comment. There was much that his friends still didn't know about him – things that they couldn't know. With a scrunch of his nose, he brought the drink back up and took a slight chug. “It's my fault.”

And it was – Lando’s entire life had been turned upside down and ruined thanks to him, whether that was purposeful or not. He had a steady career, people that depended on him and his success, other family and other friends that wanted him around.

Calrissian practically rushed over to his side and pointed a finger at the kid. “Now don't you start with that,” warned Lando, though Luke knew it was futile. He was constantly blaming himself for what had happened at Bespin: losing Han Solo to a bounty hunter, Lando losing the freedom of his city. They were all tortured for a claim at his life and he played right into the trap like a child. Words could no longer heal the blistering damage done; though, he noted, the alcohol in the drink was helping with that just a little bit. Time for another.

“That was none of our fault.”

Warm sensations swimmer around in Luke’s head as he placed the small glass on the counter, emptying it quickly beforehand, as he walked toward his friend. “That drink you gave me was pretty terrible but I feel pretty damn good,” he noted as he wiped his chin thoughtfully. “This might sound a little awkward to talk about but I'm feeling a little brave now and wanted to tell you something that I’ve needed to share with you,” rambled Luke as he slung his own arm around Lando. “I never got the chance to say thank you when you pulled me from falling. Any minute later and I probably wouldn't be here now.”

“But you are here,” the gambler replied firmly as he brushed Luke’s arm with his own hand. “And that's all that matters. Making up scenarios where you live or die is just gonna waste your time from living in the future. Stop focusing so much on what happened and start moving. There plenty of times in my past where I could have dropped dead at any moment, times where blasters were pressed against my temple and chest; you should try and learn a thing or two from me – it might help you pull through this whole thing alive and well.”

That was easier said than done – when one finds out that they are the child of their deepest and darkest nemesis, it was hard to relax, to speak casually. Maybe Lando was right, maybe he should try to take this time and enjoy what is around him. Luke smiled at his friend and wondered if he truly was too serious at times; the time spent after his rescue was filled with consistent burdens and fears that slithered about.

“Besides, anyone who is friends with Han Solo will always be royalty to me. I couldn't have left you there.”

Han Solo – the name practically brought back an entire age to Luke. It wasn’t that long ago when he saved Luke on Hoth, their huddled masses clinging to each other for desperate warmth. Though the Jedi was delirious at the time, he remembered the sensation: how cold he was dropped next to the frozen surface, icy crystals stinging and stabbing into his face. He wouldn’t be living if Han hadn’t made that choice to rescue him. Same with Lando.

He was lucky to have Lando. That man risked his life to peer out of the Falcon like that, Imperial vessels and ships swarming the space around them like mad, to save a man he had never even met. So much of him reminded Luke of his friend, Han Solo, but there were small enough differences here and there. Lando was much more open with himself, knowing what he wanted, and working hard to get it. He was charismatic, smooth, a talker unlike any the rebel had met before in the past. Handsome, too.

Lando cocked a flashy grin at his friend and undid himself from Luke’s arm, lightly tossing his hair before standing up, and bringing over the bottle of liquor. Though the Jedi frowned as his friend poured more into his glass, he had to admit that he was enjoying the intoxicating effects of it; mindlessly blathering to a friend, euphoria expanding his senses with every taste, while they basked in the moon above – Yoda would have been furious.

“You don’t have to serve me,” Luke joked, cheeks flushed from the traces of alcohol already penetrating his system. “I’m not a princess like Leia.”

“A princess, maybe not.” The man worked his way back behind Luke and rubbed his shoulders, bending slightly so his mouth pressed close against his ear; Luke could barely handle the closeness of the man pressing next to him, the heat of his breath closer to his skin than any other individuals had been before. “But I think it would be fair to say you are the prince of the rebel alliance – that’s not much of a stretch, right? Like I said, that means I have to treat you like royalty.”

Luke shrugged off his friend as he felt his face burn, his cheeks melting alive with a pink blaze. “I do believe you are blushing, Commander Skywalker,” Lando teased as he took a gulp from the bottle, setting it down on the table and folding his arms in amusement as he watched Luke turn away in embarrassment. 

Mortified, Luke was, as he gently rubbed his cheeks and closing his eyes. “It’s the alcohol,” he complained as he struggled to still his breathing. Opening his eyes after a solid rub, the room around him was starting to blur, his stubby fingers doubling as his vision faded. Skywalker sighed as he clasped his hands together, breathing in deep and out. “Definitely the alcohol,” he slurred as he rubbed his eyes again.

“Maybe you should stop drinking for now.”

Luke nodded as he slouched against the wall, his left hand mindlessly twirling his hair. Lando sat down in the armchair as he eyed his friend, coolly sipping from his drink with a smirk on his face. Heavy silence fell over the two men as they spaced themselves around the room, their eyes awkwardly darting from the other's eyes, to their drinks, to the floor. Everything was spinning in a way that Luke hadn't experienced before - but it was fun, enjoyable. 

“Physical therapy treating you well?”

Luke grimaced and looked down onto his right hand, where he could barely trace the seam of where his real flesh met the synthetic fibers of the mechanical part. “About as well as it can,” he replied, flexing the wires underneath the skin and watching his fingers move. The emotional trauma stung harder than the physical, though the pains of the absent flesh stung hard, too. “I’m still getting used to it,” waved Luke as he held up the prosthetic in the air. “No one else can tell the difference but I can. It moves and feels like any other hand but I know it’s not mine – it doesn’t feel like me.”

Because it isn’t him – or, rather, it isn’t the man he wanted to become. Grateful he was over the prosthesis that had been granted him (it was not cheap) it was a solid reminder of who created him, the ever-so-similar path he was leading. It partially disgusted him; had he been given the choice, he would have let it be. There was too much of him that was like his father now; too much like Darth Vader.

“It’s weird seeing and feeling yourself become a little less human.”

The smuggler looked to his new friend and folded his arms, frowning at the apparent worry of his body language, before rising from his seat and walking over to Luke. He reached for the hand and squeezed it without thought, the receptors activating the stimulus instantaneously. “You’re still human, Luke,” Lando said, looking at his friend dead in eye. “I know this must be tough but you are still you. We are all here for you. I’m here, too.” 

The Jedi nodded as Lando traced his fingers over the synthetic skin, marveling over the skill of the prosthesis. “I’ll get there,” Luke muttered, hastily pulling away his hand from his friend.  His heart was beating with such intensity, the warm grasp still fresh in his mind. People had grabbed his hand before in the past, but not with that same level of delicateness, a sweet intimacy that he had never experienced before.  

For some aching and bizarre reason, Luke wanted to share everything with this man right here and now. The deep secrets within his chest were boiling and needed to escape somehow before they exploded – there wouldn’t be any judgement, he pondered, reaching out for his drink in worry. Everything was so dizzy and frantic, everything moving and out of control, nothing in order –

“Damn it,” Luke yelled as the remaining fluid flew out of his shaking hand, a purple hue staining over the front of his white button-up. His cup fell to the floor as he frantically made his way over to the dining area, dabbing the shirt desperately with a tablecloth. “I ruined your shirt, Lando. I’m just,” stuttered Luke as he rubbed against the white in frustration, the inside of his head reeling as the outside flushed.

“You’re just a little drunk,” quipped Lando as he ran his way over to Luke and held his hand again, soothingly rubbing it with careful tenderness. “I have plenty of shirts identical to this one you are wearing. While watching a great man with swirling force like you get the teeniest bit tipsy is enough entertainment to last a lifetime, I think we are done drinking for tonight.  I offer you my sincerest apologies if I’ve upset you.”

“No,” Luke’s voice trailed off as he examined the hand that rubbed his, noting just how much bigger Lando’s hand was over his, before taking his glossy eyes back up and staring into those curious brown eyes that seemed to smile at him. “I’m not mad at you... I’m grateful, if anything. For everything you’ve done for me since, then, tonight,” He brought up his right arm and placed it over his friend’s hand.

“I’m grateful too,” Lando affirmed.

Without taking a second to reflect or think, Luke extended his neck and planting his mouth right below Lando’s mustache, locking their lips for what seemed like an eternity to young Skywalker. The blue of his eyes faded as his lids drooped, the faint feeling of his knees collapsing under the weight of his soul; though temporarily blinded, he felt the touch of arms enveloping around his shoulders. Suddenly, he was being saved from danger once more, his pain shielded by a guardian knight.

It felt so good to be in the arms of another – how long that must have been, truly to share such feeling and warmth around his body and contacting against his skin. The two men remained locked in place as they exchanged their first kiss, before slowly pulling away from one another.

Eyelashes fluttered in response as Luke weakly opened his eyes and looked up at the man that had rescued him all those weeks ago; endless plains of darkness were set aflame by the light of hope this man was suddenly showing him. Luke bit his lip and looked into Lando’s sensitive brown eyes, nodding as he raised his arms and wrapped them around his neck. Small driblets of sweat formed around the man’s mustache as he smiled back to his friend, before dipping downward and taking in Luke’s full lips in one passionate swoop.    

He struggled to breathe as their kiss continued, the bristles of his mustache grinding and tickling against the smooth grains of Luke’s face. So much was being communicated unconsciously as they were locked as one, secrets that he couldn’t verbally tell but needed to share, spilling forth all thoughts and feelings. Lando didn’t resist – he took in it all in one last fiery exchange before pulling back.

“I-,” Luke stuttered, blood rushing under his skin from the top of his cheeks and pouring down to his collarbone, stimulated and excited in ecstasy. He opened his eyes in wonder, both in surprise and confusion, not knowing exactly what this was or where it was going – only that it felt right. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Can’t say that I have either,” Lando mused, curious himself. “At least, not with a man.”

His eyes widening at the realization of what he had just done, Luke pulled himself away from Lando and began frantically roaming around the apartment. “I can’t believe I just did that,” combing through his hair with his fingers as he avoided Lando’s gaze. “I don’t know what came over me, Lando, I-I’m sorry, it must be from drink, right? I’m sorry, I’m gonna go.”

“Don’t go.”

Luke turned with his head tucked low, gazing up at his friend like a lost animal. “Stay here,” Lando whispered as he walked to Luke, his fingers wrapped around his collar and slowly tugging off the black tie that was still moist with liquor. “You don’t have to be ashamed by that,” slowly plucking off the buttons of the shirt before sliding it off of Luke’s body. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?” The young Jedi brought up his arms and crossed them over his bare chest, ever so aware of his own modesty.

 “Well, not if you’re not,” stated Lando with certainty as he bunched up the stained shirt and tie and wadded them into a ball, tossing it into the kitchen.  The gambler smiled at him as he stood there awkwardly, arms folded, a confused scowl taking over his mouth. “I don’t really know exactly that was, kid, but I don’t think it was wrong. You also drank quite a bit for a man that’s not used to alcohol. The night is almost over though and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you stumble back to your quarters alone when there is a perfectly good couch right here.”

Lando left Luke to grab a change of clothes from his bedroom, handing them to him with care. “Go ahead and change into these, you can sleep on that couch over there tonight; don’t worry about it being uncomfortable, I actually sleep on that thing more than I do my own bed. It’ll bring you right to sleep,” he whispered to the Jedi as he ruffled his hair playfully. “We can talk about what happened later tomorrow.”

Pecking him softly on the forehead, Lando left to go back to his bedroom and allow him to change – though, Luke wondered as he pulled down his pants and stood there in his underwear, he was almost certain that he could sense the gaze of another watching him – strangely, it didn’t bother him if someone was. He shrugged as slid a pair of wool pajamas over his white briefs and nestled his way over to the couch, collapsing into the seat and closing his eyes to prepare for slumber.

The night was almost over – though curious and pensive thoughts wrestled in his head, making decisions. He decided that he might  _kind of_  like alcohol, but only a bit, as his head swirled in darkness; he decided that host parties can be enjoyable with the right partner; he also decided that, tomorrow, he would speak to Lando Calrissian and decide just what that kiss between the two of them meant. Whether it came from drunken stupor or from the depths of two lonely souls, Luke decided that it was worth it.

 

 


End file.
